The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1887-04-28
THE DEATH OF BOOTH.
A GRAPHIC ACCOUNT AS GIVEN
IN "GATH'S" NEW NOVEL.

The Assassin's Last Plea for Fighting
Chance-The Barn on Fire-A Face
that Seemed a Battle Ground OF
Wounds and Spasms.
At the suggestion of John Brown his
wandering powers took conference and
example, and he remembered the man
nerism in which old Brown had met his
fate and Booth tried to be his pupil.
Captain said Booth, assuming hol-
low, theatrical voice, "give me living
chance; withdraw your men a hundred
PAGES from the barn and I'll come out
and fight your
This had been John Browns request
when entrapped in his engine house, and
Booth aspired to die like Brown.
He repeated the request, and thought
it quite unmerciful that he was not &C
corded little stage space to die effective
ly in.
Gwen waste no more time" the civil
officer without spoke, in tone of disgust.
The katydid or cricket never ceased to
call its resounding beads, and pray, pray,
pray"
Booth searched the heavens and the
world for some intercessor, and fetched
from weakness his mothers name. BY
that saint he asked for fifty yards and for
little more time.
Everything was refused
''Now, then, my brave boys he de-
claimed, in the tones OF the stage again,
prepare a stretcher for me!''
''Stretchers" were the canvas biers to
carry out of battle wounded men. Booth
assuming to the end-wOuld appear to
be q veteran entitled to the hOnOrs of war.
He raised his carbine, feebly resolving
to kill some one or to fire it off at least,
and as he stepped, on foot and crutch,
toward the center of the barn, to be
farthest from mems aiming a friction
match was scratch I'd behind him, as if his
broken bones had rasped each other, and
sent cold chill up his spine.
He turned and saw the barn on firel
A lighted whisp of straw, twisted by
some one without, had fallen into the
loose hay. and some brush piled against
the outside of the barn was also afire.
The warm flame for a single instant car
ried the odor and crackle of his fathers
log cabin to his heart, and he shouted as
hts crutch fell from under his arm and
left him helpless:
Captain, do it quickl Now shoot me
through the hearth
The cricket ceased to sing, though
everything beside came forth in the
bright light, till what had been the throne
Of gloom stood revealed in the blessed
implements and yield of husbandry. and
there were wasps flying around their nests
in the roof seeming fame and in the lit
ter Of the floor ran rats in single file, all
slyly, as from a sinking ship, and one
squealed as it crossed his shadow like an
old witch in an incarnation scene.
The plow and the harrow teeth took
rudy gleam; some swallows in the tim
bers flew round and round, blinded by
the fire, and the pegs for tobacco and the
burning tobacco leaves grew to be ferns
and scallops of gold as they hung, like
gilded scenes in spectacles, around the
desperate man.
He had seen fires upon the stage and
helped to stamp them out and he limped
toward the greater flame near a corn er;
but suddenly great tongue of fire licked
him and singed him as if Cerberus at
hell's door had fondled on him with a fur
mace tOnguel
Fear seized him and he ran toward the
door on misfitting boneS-the door held
open as by some invisible angel-and as
he ran the pOnderous beams and trees in
the structure seemed to fall upon his
skull and smash it like an egg.
Booth next felt water in his face, and
two men were holding him up and search
ing his body and putting their fingers in
his brain.
'EIt's here said one, Fright where he
shot the president, behind the ear and on
the same side, and here it comes through!'
In gagging torments he discerned be-
fore him two men in Confederate dress,
all shown by the light of the burning
barn, which was reflected in the home
stead porch he lay upon.
"Did-he-betray-m sighed Booth,
pointing to one of these, the officer who
had brought him to the house.
He did not hear the answer, but he
made it himself:
':Tell-mother-Tt thought did-best
-rights-a country-till-I died. Kill
mel Kill mer'
Herold, tied to the tree in the little fat
lawn, saw them turn Booth to make him
comfortable and heard him gasp and
groan, and Herold shed the only tears.
Booth could not swallow and his words
were measured like dew in the honey
suckle S cup that dropped above his eyes
and opened to the fire.
He saw them, in his paralysis, hold up
the arsenal of things he had carried so
Tonga great, fierce knife, with rust of
blood upon it; two pistols with revolving
cylinders thick as his riven ankle and
loaded in every chamber; a seven shotted
carbine; a candle spotted pocket compass;
his diary full of protestations and despair,
and holding Light Prisons name; his
pipe and scarf pin and the hkenesses of
ladies; and little Catholic medal. He
sighed:
'Tonguer'
The detective opened his mouth and
said:
Booth, no blood is on your tongue"
He started at his name, which seemed
century since it had been mentioned,
and gasped:
"Handsr'
The officer raised his hand and moist
ened it with piece of ice, and lifted it all
limp to Booths face. 1t fell uncontrcl-
able like his broken foot.
He feebly moved his eyeballs through
an arc which swept all nature and exhaled
the closing words:
"USeloss-'leSSl'
His face now expressed the unseen
agony for which there was no word, and
the cherished pride of strength pushed
Death away that mercifully drew near
again and again, but ever was repealed by
the flushing rose and pulse of life, till
that the countenance of the actor and
athlete seemed q ba title frrOund of wounds